Why Me?
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: Myrnin contemplates as to why HE has the disease, looking back briefly over his life and just how he came to be in Morganville, suffering the disease, before he slips back into the darkness.


_I don't own anything_

_Leona Lewis helped me write this oneshot, for she was the song that played as I got down 95% of this short oneshot_

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Why me?

Why is it _me_ who has been struck down by this vile, disgusting, demeaning, disease which will kill us all?

Why is it _me_ that has to fight every single day to get a short while of sanity to try and _cure_ us, the sane period decreasing in length every day?

Why is it _me_ that is being forced into myself, more than I was before whilst the violent beast ravages in control?

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~.~

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I never _wanted_ to be a monster; all I wanted was an immortal life to be able to _learn_. I had already gathered so much knowledge in my life but I knew I was beginning to age, that I didn't have long left before I would outwardly show signs of the mental illness my father had. That was the _real_ reason why my Mother had packed me off with the scientist who I found out to be a vampire; she didn't want another embarrassment in the family, another one who couldn't control themselves. I could already feel it creeping in: the strange moodswings; the obsession with one thing, that being science for me; the way that I detested another's company, preferring to work alone. It scared me.

I realised that I didn't have so much longer being able to learn… but as a vampire, I would have the chance to find out everything that I was yet to learn, as well as observe scientific discoveries in the future. Yet I knew the moods would remain, the difference between my caring and gentle side and the dangerous creature who cared for only science increasing to be a tiny gulf which would be rocked, if not daily, then extremely frequently.

But never, not once, did I imagine the idea of power, of control, of being the superior race. I never believed that I could control things – after all, who would listen to crazy Myrnin? The only thing I wanted to do was learn, at least at first, but my cheeky side would always slip out: I always knew that. Nonetheless, I never dreamed of killing as so many other vampires did as humans; I never dreamed that I would want to take the life of someone just because I could.

So, for many years, I managed to continue on, learning. Amelie provided me with everything I required or just wanted, as good friends do, and, in return, I was a friend to her when she needed it most. When others abandoned her in fear of her Father, I remained and was a loyal person – we needed each other.

The only thing, at least primarily, I did not agree with was her intense disapproval of Ada. She believed I had turned her for selfish reasons, which was the truth. But it was for this purpose that I declined to follow her across the oceans to America, to settle there: I understand why she did, I think. I believe the memories of England, of Europe, were so… _intense_, in all the wrong ways, that she decided she had a better chance of normality in a foreign country, one yet to have an identity of its own.

Yet the separation from the only _true_ friend I had – for, no matter what, Ada was an assistant or a lover, never a friend – was too much for me and I ended up following her. The pictures she painted were of this unique place where one could be themselves, though not literally for vampires. But she scared me: her later letters turned out to be revealing a more dangerous side of her, one that, as myself and Ada realised there was a sort of descent into madness occurring, showed no intent of stopping. She was the eldest of us all, the one with the most responsibility, and she made the decision to found Morganville.

By the time I had gotten to her, she had already began constructing her town, the place which would come to be every vampire's home. I was set, alongside Ada, on the task of finding just _what_ was going on.

So we studied. We studied and studied, observing the vampires who were already sick and noting down the symptoms. We began to identify the next vampires to be ill and Amelie, mistakenly, informed them before having to lock them away for the protection of the town. So the disease became a secret, a deadly one, one that would destroy us all if released.

Yet the one person I forgot to consider was myself. I ignored the symptoms even though I was observing them in others, believing that they were simply a lack of sleep and other things. I ignored the increasing gravity of my moods, the ones which lasted so much longer and I seemed so much more dangerous in than before. Things were smashed and I didn't understand how they had became so; Ada became almost scared of me, which spurred me on. The disease was taking a hold in me.

Perhaps it was _me_ because I had had a history of mental illness; perhaps I was a weak link. But I never considered that I had the disease at the time, ignoring Ada's timid suggestions that I should take a break. It was _my_ research and she had no right to take it from me.

One day, I… I forget what happened because it is all in pieces, the odd moment of sanity causing a particular still to have clarity to it, whilst the others are more jumbled, seeming more like I have imagined them up. But the only things I _definitely_ remember are fighting to remain in control, then suddenly holding the wonderful, perfect, sweet, body of the woman I loved in my arms, sobbing.

I then remember slicing her up, using _her_ to help Amelie keep Morganville running so that I could continue the fight to find out what caused the disease. Alone.

I fought harder and harder, fighting to keep myself from descending into the madness so many others did. I fought to keep myself with Ada, talking to her when I could, fought to make sure that I hadn't killed her for nothing.

Yet, now, I have such little time for these thoughts of love. The rest of the time, the monster overtakes me, the part of me that cares not for feelings of love or hate but simply for the chance to kill. The part of me that continues to cover science for it is my obsession, but is greedy and keeps that knowledge locked within it. I could find a cure for this disease whilst under its influence and never know because I can't remember when I get the chance to be me again.

I forget, sometimes, who I _am_, the person I am: the sweet and charming man who had women falling at his feet before they found out I was a vampire. I forget that there is more than science to me. I forget all of that.

Everything is lost. All but one thing. The kill.

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~.~

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Why do _I_ have to have this disease?

Why do I have to suffer as I try and cure us all, as I promised Amelie I would, oh so long ago?

Why will the monster not relent for _one minute_?

The darkness descends over me slowly, dragging me under its influence and making me the property of it, so to speak. It stops me knowing what I am doing, what I am saying, where I am at times. I forget everything.

Everything but the kill.

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_Review_

_Vicky xx_


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